Genma deflected the bread projectile, snagging it out of the air with a deft hand and dropping it into the soup to float for a moment, absorbing the pungent liquid, before succumbing and sinking slowly beneath the surface. He rescued it with his spoon and took another bite. Actually, that waitress had been quite true to her word about the chef having put a little extra fire in the soup. Genma could feel a slow smoldering burn in his esophagus and stomach that promised a sleepless night of distress if he didn't consider doing something to sop up some of the caustic chemicals he'd ingested.

Possibly one and a half bowls of that soup was half a bowl too much.

Well, there was a remedy close at hand. He drained half his glass in a long, single swallow, wiping his mouth with a gusty exhale. Then he ate a whole wedge of the bread plain, drained his beer down the rest of the way and gave Raidou a slightly dazed grin. "Actually, I think that stuff probably could kill you. Although you're a wuss for losing your voice to only a quarter bowl." After one and a half bowls, Genma's own voice sounded a little rough, and he was constantly dabbing at a running nose and teary eyes now. You'd have thought the man was suffering if you hadn't seen the wide smile on his face.

Raidou gave his dining companion a wary look, half expecting Genma to drop dead into his empty soup bowl. "Were you always this insane?" he enquired, "Or does spicy food just bring out the worst in you?" He'd seen Genma eat curry before, he'd just never seen him look like he was about to have an aneurysm from the experience.

Either that or the beer he'd just downed had gone straight to Genma's head.

"Wuss, huh?" he added, trading a wary look for a wry one. "Better then a lightweight, at least. And I've haven't lost my voice, I might have damaged it irreparably, but I still know where it is. There's a subtle difference." He glanced up as the waitress floated over again and collected their bowls with a cheerful smile. He was starting to suspect there was an edge to that smile--the happier she seemed, the more likely the meal was to kill you, probably.

She directed a wider smile at Genma's flushed face, her own cheeks colouring a bit. "I'll just bring your curry right out. It won't be a minute."

Raidou resisted the urge to say 'take your time'. Instead he began, "Did the chef--"

"Put something extra in it, too? Oh you bet! He's really terribly excited to have someone appreciate his Mangrove. Not many people are brave enough to try it." She swept away, deftly moving across the semi-crowded restaurant floor.

Raidou leaned on the table again. "I don't want any flowers at my funeral. Just a nice simple affair. Possibly with some bland tofu set on my grave as a warning not to be so damn stupid next time around." He didn't believe in reincarnation, but he imagined Genma would appreciate the joke.

"I'll put fresh tofu and cigarettes there for you every week. Although I'm not sure I can get Arakaki to buy 'suicide by curry' as the sort of death that will get your name on the Stone. Maybe I can convince him you were having some kind of flashbacks from that mission last month with the genjutsu guy. I'll go fudge up the mission report and add you saying the guy gave you nightmares about bland food or something."

It wasn't the first mention they'd made of the mission. They'd discussed it thoroughly, of course, while writing their final mission reports. And both agreed it had thoroughly sucked. But a little gallows humor never hurt anyone.

Genma reached for the pitcher and refilled both of their beers, then gave Raidou a steely look. "You know actually I think we have a deal, don't we? No dying? Least I think that was the deal. So you're just gonna have to man up and eat a lot of rice and only a little of the curry this next round, if you think it's blistering your esophagus."

Actually that was in interesting question, Genma mused, listening to his harshened voice and feeling the lingering burn from sinuses all the way to duodenum. He wondered if the curry could really cause physical damage. Probably, given that there were some excellent powders for blinding the enemy based on chilies.

Raidou snorted. "Here lies ANBU Namiashi; we remember him by cancer sticks and soy bean products. He was a good man, a fair man, a just man... and an incredible moron for listening to his partner's advice about food." He shifted, leaning to balance on one elbow while he picked up his beer with a free hand. "I bet all that poison testing has done irreversible damage to your tastebuds, y'know."

But Genma wasn't quite joking anymore. There was an edge to his look that had nothing to do with beer or curry--the one he always got when he talked about dying. Raidou was just grateful that wasn't too often. He took a sip of beer, calling up an old memory. "I think the deal was something like..." he smiled slightly, mouth quirking up. "'You don't get to be a hero until your ass is in the ground and your name is on the rock.' Remind me to tattoo that on you at some point."

It was just another way of saying the same thing; neither one of them would be a real hero until they died for their village, that was how it worked.

Raidou took another gulp of beer, setting his glass down just in time to catch sight of the waitress coming back over. "And don't talk to me about manning up, brat. Who's the one that spends half his time carrying your wounded carcass around?"

"I'm not taking the blame for this," Genma said, waving his hands in an almost childish gesture of denial. "I wanted to get the shrimp and lobster thing. You were the one who insisted on the Mangrove prawns. Not that I'm not looking forward to them immensely, but you knew that senbon was poisoned when you stuck it in your mouth."

The waitress gave them both a broad smile as she set a steaming platter of enormous prawns and chunky vegetables swimming in a yellow-green sauce on the table. There was a dusting of ground peanuts colored bright red with chili powder on top, and a garnish of mint-leaves all around the edges, looking like genin trying to guard a stockade full of enemy jounin.

She set a silver lidded bowl full of fragrant basmati rice on the table next, and provided two clean plates for her diners. "The chef said he really hopes you'll like it. He wants you to get a good taste of Mangrove home-cooking." She leaned in conspiratorially, face close enough to the hot plates that wisps of her hair curled in the steam. "He wanted to be a ninja, you know. But he couldn't, because one of his legs is shorter than the other. But he always makes a special effort for our forces." She stood back up with a little wink and a bright flush. "The next pitcher's on the house," she added, and bowed while one of the busboys set a fresh pitcher of beer on the table. "Courtesy of Imasu-san, the chef."

Genma smiled at her and winked back, earning another blush from the girl. "You tell Imasu-san we really appreciate it," he said, and started helping himself to rice and prawns. When she had gone he grinned at Raidou. "OK, it's not like it's really all that hard to guess who's a ninja and who isn't in a hidden village, but she totally made us, even in civvies. Although we were talking about missions, so I guess that's kind of a dead give away. Anyway, I already have my tattoo to remind me what my priorities are. And my ass is perfectly fine. When's the last time you did any carrying for me having a busted ass?"

"Seeing as how you currently look like a pre-teen wearing his dad's clothes," Raidou laughed, nodding at his sweater still draped over Genma like a dark blue tent. "I'm assuming it's my incredible air of power and talent bleeding through that tipped her off about the ninja thing." He snorted. "That or the fact you persist in keeping a weapon between your teeth at all times, and I look like someone tried to weld me to something." He didn't quite manage to keep his smile from slipping, but another sip of beer covered the lapse. "And we're eating the very manly curry."

Speaking of which... Raidou eyed the dish in question warily, feeling the slow waft of devil's breath rising gently from the sulphurous concoction. In keeping with the theme the soup had started, it looked slightly like some unfortunate creature had eaten poisoned prawns and slurry, and some industrious individual had carefully collected the result after several hours of digestion. At least they'd had the decency to add a few sprigs of mint-leaves.

"I think this actually counts as Imusu-san trying to disable Konoha's forces, not support them," he said finally, and gathered himself to dish some of the mess onto his plate. "And if we count your ass as the place where most of your crap comes from, you had a concussion... last month? Month before? Sometime over the last eight weeks."

Genma popped a prawn into his mouth and chewed with a blissful expression on his face. Sweet, perfectly textured, and the sauce! An explosion of flavors. Fiery heat from the chilies, of course, but there was a subtle blend of spices--ginger, turmeric, star anise, lemon grass, coconut, peanuts, and of course mint. It wouldn't be Mangrove Country style without the mint.

"This is awesome" he said, with eyes streaming again. Awesome and really quite deadly hot, but that just added to the awesomeness. "And um... concussion? Did I? When? OK last month it was the bite thing, and before that there was the poisoning..." He picked up his beer and only then managed to understand what Raidou had been getting at.

"Hey!" he complained in a hurt tone. "That was uncalled for. I only ever say nice things about you, you know." He slurped his beer, then went back to his curry, picking up a pair of red and green peppers and another prawn. Damn, this place definitely knew how to do curry right.

Raidou laughed, still braced on one elbow and not quite ready to take the curry plunge. "That's because you can never think of a good comeback, lover boy. You're too nice for your own good." He flashed a brief grin, all teeth, and picked up his chopsticks. "Which is something I imagine no one else will ever tell you, so consider it a backhanded compliment."

He eyed his curry, glancing at Genma's renewed on-the-verge-of-death look with waning hope, and picked out one of the giant prawns out on the grounds that he could recognize it.

"If I don't survive," he said, holding the steaming bite of seafood up, "tell my brothers I loved them. And... that I said something special and moving."

One breath to gather courage, one moment to say farewell to tastebuds, one sniff to obliterate nasal hair... Raidou gave up and shoved the prawn into his mouth.

One minor choking fit and a lot of beer later, he regained the ability to vocalise. "I take it back," he gasped, dragging a hand over watering eyes. "You're a demon wearing manskin. How the hell do you eat this and enjoy it?"

Genma was not an unfeeling man. In fact, he was fairly highly sensitized to anything that hinted at being a threat to his partner and best friend. For the first time since they'd arrived at the restaurant, he felt the warning prickle that told him Raidou was in fact in real danger. The way he'd gone not just red, but a mottled red and white, the stridor to his breathing, the look on his face that was clearly one of a man experiencing some of the higher degrees of pain, all mobilized the ninja medic in Genma.

"Shit, Rai, you alright?" he asked, leaning across the table to put a hand on Raidou's arm. "Don't make yourself sick or anything. Maybe it's too strong for you. I mean, I eat this kind of stuff a lot, so maybe you're theory is right about me being sort of immune, like I am to arsenic and stuff."

He refilled Raidou's glass and dumped another several spoonfuls of rice onto his friend's plate. "Here, eat some plain rice. And um. Yeah, stop. We'll order something milder for you. Pride's not worth killing yourself over. Besides, I don't want to have to make up whatever it is you were supposed to have told me to tell your brothers."

Curry, undefeated win. Ego, ziltch.

Raidou snorted, catching his breath, and resigned himself to defeat. "I'm not dying, mother medic. Just having some minor issues with... well, breathing." He took a sip of beer and caught Genma's look. "Joke! It was a joke. I'm fine. Really. See? All living and everything." He tapped the back of Genma's wrist carefully, proving he still had body heat. "My ego just took a shot with all the fuss--" something milder; he'd never live that down, "--but I'm pretty sure that's not fatal."

He took a long swallow of beer, washing the fire-death taste out of his mouth, and grinned wryly. "I'll content myself with my beer and my sissy boy rice. You enjoy your poisoner's cuisine and scare the nice patrons." They'd managed to pick up a decent sized audience with all the hacking and choking. "Maybe afterwards we can go do something that doesn't risk life and digestive tract."

Genma gave his friend a skeptical look, reaching out to catch Raidou's wrist between his fingertips. A slightly elevated pulse, and the beads of sweat on Raidou's face, combined with his still rasping breath, made Genma frown. "How about if we get um..." He tried to remember the menu. There had been a lamb in spring onions or something like that that was listed without any chilies. Utterly mild. But still manly, since it had onions and red meat. That would salvage Raidou's pride, and probably go really well with the prawns. Which Genma was actually not entirely sure he wanted to eat an entire plate of all by himself.

"That lamb dish with leeks. Or baby onions, Or whatever it was. Let's get some of that. It will complement the prawns. Let's get that." He waved the waitress over and gave her the order before Raidou could interrupt. "Besides, I'm paying, right? Since I lost?" he said, forestalling protest. "If we have leftovers that'll work out just fine."

Genma grinned and winked at one of their onlookers, who quickly turned away. His attention turned back to Raidou as he ate another prawn, this one with a little dark-red chili pod stuck to its side. A little red pod Genma hadn't actually noticed, and wouldn't have eaten if he had. The expressions of pain Raidou had displayed earlier paled in comparison to the look of utter horror and betrayal on Genma's face as the chemical bomb exploded between his teeth. His face took on a mottled look with patches of bloodless white and deep red, and his cheeks bowed out for a moment before he managed to swallow. Then he drained his beer in one gulp and nearly spilled the pitcher reaching for more.

Raidou blinked, stared, and had to put his head in his hands until the laughter went away. The restaurant's gentle dinner ambiance fell into a widening pit of silence as one shinobi choked on curry, and the other choked on mirth.

"See?" Raidou gasped, when he could almost breathe again. "Devil food! And that's what you get for checking my pulse." His pulse, as if he were some civilian child about to fall over from food poisoning. He leaned an elbow on the table and tried to inhale without falling back into laughter.

Genma had turned slightly purple.

Raidou gave up and put his head down on the table, shoulders shaking. His lungs hurt. "I think," he managed, speaking into the fine linen cloth, "we should call it quits and do something else. Food clearly wants to kill us."

It was truly astounding what power was packed in one of those little pods. The way a simple chemical reaction could create so much pain you nearly hurled back up the very food you were attempting to eat. The way it stopped your breath and made tears and mucous pour from your eyes and nose. Genma gasped, gagged, gasped, gulped another half glass of beer, and finally wiped the moisture from his face and flashed Raidou a somewhat ragged grin. "Okay," he wheezed in a voice as raw and broken as a skinned torture victim. "That was maybe a little too much."

Raidou looked like he was about to suffer an apoplexy from laughter.

"You're not supposed to eat the pods," Genma explained, as if it had been Raidou who'd made the mistake. He picked up another prawn, inspecting it carefully for any hint of deep red, then popped it into his mouth. The unhealed surfaces reacted to this new assault with nearly as much vigor as they had to the chili. Genma could feel his esophagus blistering, and he couldn't see Raidou anymore through the haze of tears. He chewed and swallowed with a determined air, gasped and gulped another half pint, and raised his hand in a gesture of defeat.

"Oh fuck that's hot," he whispered. It was all the voice he had left at the moment.

"I'll bear that in mind," Raidou rasped, having no intention of ever getting near anything hotter than mustard for the rest of his life. He looked up just in time to see Genma commit culinary suicide.

For a little while, more laughter happened.

"Okay, okay," he gasped finally, waving a hand and snagging Genma's plate to take it away from him. "No more death food. We're tough manly ninja who get hit with sharp metal and blunt objects for a living, we don't need to prove we have stones. Really," he added, to the waitress who'd hovered over. "So if you could box up the lamb and take the curry and throw it against a wall somewhere, that'd be great." He smiled.

The waitress blinked. "Um--right. Yes, sir." She collected the dishes and hurried away.

Raidou picked up his glass and took a sip of beer, regarding his partner. "Well," he said brightly after a moment, "this was fun. Let's never do it again."

"Hey, I wanted the prawns. They'd have been good leftovers with a lot of rice mixed in," Genma protested. He watched mournfully as the waitress disappeared with their dishes. "And now Imasu-san is going to think we don't appreciate his cooking." He'd have to come back and eat here again, maybe with Aoba. Someone who could handle a little heat. But he'd also have to be sure not to eat the death-pods. Almost made him wonder if Imasu-san had been trying to prove something to them. Probably.

The waitress brought back two containers with an apologetic little smile. "Imasu-san said he might have been a little over-zealous with the prawns, so he fixed you up a fresh batch for later," she said, setting the box marked 'lamb" in front of Raidou and the one marked 'prawns' in front of Genma.

Genma nodded and thanked her and waited for her to go before he leaned in towards Raidou. "There's no way he cooked them that fast. He totally had an order already to go for someone else, or else he made us two plates, one booby trapped." It was actually kind of funny. "The old man showed us, huh?" Genma laughed and shoved back from the table, laughing again when his knees felt numb. A glance at the empty beer pitcher told him that maybe he'd had more than he'd thought. Oh well, no harm done.

"Want to go dancing?"

Raidou snorted with laughter. "You're probably right, that sneaky old bastard." He stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders with a pop of joints. Then added thoughtfully: "Still, he should advertise. There can't be many places that make curry hot enough to knock a ninja on his ass, let alone two. It'd be like... extreme eating. For the insane."

He tucked the box of lamb under his arm, feeling thoroughly warm and pleased. The beer had been good, and he'd had enough to leave him with a stomach full of sunshine. The curry had added a buzz--that was probably adrenaline, he thought, amused--and the gut-shaking laughter had rippled away to leave a general sense of good-feeling in its wake.

Which still wasn't enough to make him willingly go dancing, but it was enough to make him smile and shrug. "Sure, s'long as you don't mind me sitting at the bar."

"You can sit for a half hour," Genma said. "And drink up some courage, but then you're gonna dance too." He grinned at Raidou and picked up his box of prawns, leaving a neatly folded trio of bills on the table, weighted down with ten-ryou coins. The eyes that lingered on them as they left the restaurant just made him laugh more.

His knees were definitely numb, and his throat was still blazing. That had been some astonishingly hot curry. Hot enough he was probably going to be sorry in the morning. But it was worth it. Some injuries just came with the territory, like bruises from sparring. You didn't complain. Although making jokes--that was alright.

"So you wanna stop at the store and get some of that extra-soft toilet paper for tomorrow?" Genma asked, and laughed at the expression on Raidou's face. "OK, let's not think about tomorrow. Dancing now! I can't believe I finally got you to go dancing with me. How about that place with all the lights? The Edge of Heaven?"

"Sure," said Raidou, with another shrug. "It makes perfect sense to cap the evening with a mild case of retina damage." He bumped Genma's shoulder to take the sting away, and popped up a clone to take the boxed lamb and curry back to his apartment, handing over his key at the same time. The clone would just have to hang around until he got home--whenever he got home.

The Edge of Heaven, he thought, feeling a momentary tingle of apprehension. Clubs weren't his scene. They were loud and dark, full of people packed close enough to crush...

But Genma was excited, and he'd already said yes.

He'd just have to put up with it. One night wouldn't kill him.

"They serve drinkable alcohol there, right? Or do I have to get courage from something neon blue and cherry-flavoured?"

"You want straight-up bourbon, you can get it," Genma told him. "Or shouchu or rum or whatever makes you happy. But some of those mixed drinks are pretty good, too, you know. They don't all have to be girly shit with fruit in them." He swiveled his hips, sliding easily from one leg to the other, feeling Raidou's oversized sweater sway around him in fluid swells of fabric. That would have to go once they were inside the dance hall, but out here in the cold he was glad to have it.

His leg still had just the slightest hint of stiffness from the recently-healed dog bite. Maybe just the edge of a bruised feeling from the spar that afternoon. It was nothing another shot or two and some concentrated effort of the dance floor wouldn't set right.

And The Edge of Heaven was a good club. Not too mobbed, since they had a high cover charge. Good DJ, nice dance floor, quality booze. Raidou would like it. And it was mixed. Girls danced with girls, girls danced with guys, guys danced with guys. Not a straight bar like Club Three-Oh-One, and not a gay scene like Rocking Horse World. The Edge of Heaven was upscale, uptown, and hip. Definitely a good place to take Raidou.

Raidou hooked his thumbs into his back pockets, walking straight-backed as he enjoyed the brush of cool night air after all the heat. He fell into step at Genma's elbow, content to let his friend lead the way. People split around them; mostly civilians enjoying Konoha's nightlife, but a few walked with the easy grace of a shinobi. He nodded at one or two, occasionally recognizing an ANBU wolf cutting through the sheep.

"Not sure I want to get that drunk," he admitted. "It tends to go badly." His lips curved a wry smile. "And I've been banned from enough places that I want to treasure the ones still open to me." He regarded the flash of lights in the distance, the greater mill of crowds. "Of course, with any luck, I might manage something spectacular, and you'll give up on this getting me to dance idea."

"Never," Genma assured him. "OK, stick close, I can get us in without the cover charge." He stripped off Raidou's sweater, butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Shiny blue silk clinging in all the right places, low-slung jeans just tight enough to leave the imagination plenty to work with. He grinned at Raidou as he tossed him the sweater and gave him a wink. "OK, I'm ready," he said, running a hand through his hair.

He pushed through the crowd at the door with ease, greeting a woman in a short green dress with a kiss on the cheek, patting the back of a young man with a black mohawk and acne scars on his bared shoulder, who turned and gave Genma the biggest puppy-eyed grin of adoration ever seen in Konoha. He was like a hot knife through butter, parting that crowd and getting to the bouncer--a muscular man with an ugly scar over one eyebrow that spoke more of bar brawls than kunai strikes.

"Hey, Shin. How's the DJ tonight? Anything good going on?" Genma was just a little taller than the bouncer, who had to lean up to give Genma a quick but rather licentious kiss. More than a few of the men and women waiting to get in turned envious eyes on the pair.

"Do you even have to ask? Obviously it's good. This your date? Should I be jealous?" Shin gave Raidou an appraising look, then a slow wink. "He's a lucky guy."

"Of course you should be jealous," Genma replied with an easy grin. "And he's with me, yeah. So are you letting us in or what?"

"Go. Everyone knows this place gets an extra star in the rating books when you show up." Another wink and grin at Raidou. "You keep your eye on him if you want to go home with him at the end of the night. But then maybe you can take care of yourself. Tell you what, I get a break at midnight..."

"Back off, Shin," Genma laughed. "Poach someone else's guy, not mine."

"Uh," said Raidou articulately, but the bouncer was already putting a hand between his shoulderblades, pushing him forwards. Genma cut ahead of him, clearly in his element. Enough to apparently know everyone, Raidou realized with a blink, as more people came forward to greet his friend--with more than a few kisses.

Raidou scowled very slightly, and blamed the shift in mood on the pounding drumbeat that hammered out of the club. He tossed his sweater over his shoulder, and followed his friend. The building was dark, the walls painted black. Lights strobed, slicing the air with colour. Everywhere there were people, most of them dancing.

And grabbing.

He twitched as fingers ghosted over the waistback of his jeans and slipped lower. A quick dodge saved the man--woman? he couldn't even tell--from losing their wrist.

But Genma seemed to be having fun.

"Bar?" yelled Raidou, ducking close to his friend, trying to be heard over the music. "I think I need to sit down. That or slap a sign on my ass saying 'your guy' so people stop getting touchy!" He tried to sound wry, but the volume made it difficult.

Genma nodded and slipped through the mass of dancers with adroit swivels of hips and flexing of spine. "It's in the back!" he shouted, and reached for Raidou's arm, steering his friend with him. "We'll get some drinks and then you can dance with me. That will make it obvious you're with me." He grinned at the thought, inexplicably happy. Well not inexplicably. He had a belly full of killer curry and beer, a club full of admirers, and his best friend there to dance with him.

The bar was tucked against the west wall, backed with mirrors and shelves of bottles. The bartender, a tall, mannish-looking woman wearing bright lipstick, leaned over and left lip prints on Genma's cheek. "Hey sugar! Haven't seen you in a while. Been too busy for me?"

"Hey, you know how it goes," Genma said, and slung an arm around Raidou's shoulders before he could edge away. "This is Rai. He's with me, so whatever he drinks goes on my tab. And I think we'll start with a pair of Nipple Lifters."

"Sure thing, sug." The bartender turned away to get two glasses down and start filling them with shots from a variety of bottles.

"That's Anna, she's a sweetheart," Genma told Raidou. He picked up one of the little cocktail napkins on the bar and wiped the lipstick from his cheek. "Did I get it all?"

"Whatever you've got," said Raidou dryly, "I think it's infectious." A sting of internal pride protested Genma paying for his drink, but this was Genma's scene--and Raidou wasn't quite sure he could willingly make himself hand over cash for a nipple-anything. He leaned sideways against the bar, setting one elbow on the counter, and kept an eye on the heaving, leaping room.

Music, lights, crowds... pretty much a ninja's worst nightmare. But he could feel the thumping bass beat starting to stroke its way down his spine, making his feet want to move...

Dammit.

He took the frosted glass Anna pushed towards him, curling his fingers loosely around the delicate stem, and gave the contents a dubious glance. They were pink, swirled through with silvery streaks that lit up when the lights flashed over. Anna smiled at him, painted lips curling into a wicked curve.

"Cocktail virgin?" she said, leaning on the bar. "Now isn't that just darling."

He leaned back a fraction, thoroughly intimidated by the combination of saucy scarlet and five 'o' clock shadow. "Some days I'm even adorable," he said, and gave Genma a 'help' look.

"You're always adorable," Genma agreed. "Except when you're kicking my ass in a spar. Then you're only somewhat likable." He lifted his drink towards Raidou in a cheery toast. "To my adorable ass-kicking friend."

The first taste of a Nipple Lifter was always a delight. Sweet, spicy, a little exotic. It was the passion fruit liqueur that did it, Anna had told him once, but Genma didn't believe it. There was something in there like vanilla or violets. Something floral. And it was an amazing drink. You could down three or four and have no idea how trashed you were until you tried to stand up. Something about the blend of fruit juices and liqueurs managed to disguise the intensity of the alcohol involved.

"He kicked your ass?" Anna asked, eyeing Raidou with a cooler, more deliberate sweep. "Well damn, honey. I guess if you're going to get your ass kicked, it's nice to get it kicked by a hottie."

"Would you back off?" Genma laughed. "What is this, some kind of conspiracy between you and Shin to steal my date next time I came in? And before you ask, no we are not looking for a third."